On Saturday May 5 at the site of the defunct Indigo Store in Mount Royal Village here in Calgary, a group of artists, musicians and poets known collectively as the Oilman’s Review (V.5) are presenting a group art show. It’s a fundraiser for the Calgary Inn from the Cold Program, a very important program that helps shelter and feed homeless families in Calgary. (There’s a copy of the poster with all the info at the bottom of this post.)
I seem to have gotten myself involved and will be reading some poems and having some kind of slam style competition with Calgary’s Poet Laureate Chris Demeanor. There will be a silent auction for the works of art being produced for the event as well as live music. From what I know, the event is not licensed but the Metropolitan Grill is just upstairs.
I love the concept and energy of this event. I like that different artists are coming together to create something for a good cause. It’s always seemed to me that if you put enough creative people in the same room, anything can happen.
Maybe after the tension of the recent election, we could all use a good blow out.
Well, here’s your big chance.
One of the pieces I’ve been asked to read is my earliest poem.
Finding this masterpiece led to a rather warm and not always so fuzzy Sunday afternoon, going through a big suitcase (above) full of my journals.
The suitcase contains about a hundred or so of my completed journals, but I probably have another fifty or so kicking around my apartment and my office at St. Mary’s.
The earliest one is this one, which I started while I was in Grade 12, back in 1974. It’s full of very, very bad poetry. Now I understand why many artists actually burn their journals. Suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.
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I found an extremely lugubrious poem (what an EMO boy I was!) which I am prepared to read at the Oilman’s Review this Saturday night. If you want to know what the poem says, you’ll have to show up in person. See you there!
Thanks for reading . . . .
eugene stickland 